


Boum Boum Boum

by dreamcp



Series: The Origin of Love [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Almost Sex, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Artist Grantaire, Drunken Shenanigans, First Meetings, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Making Out, maybe ooc? blame it on the alcohol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 21:21:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11216508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamcp/pseuds/dreamcp
Summary: Grantaire meets a stranger at his art class's gallery opening. Things get very heated, very quickly.





	Boum Boum Boum

**Author's Note:**

> Haaah um. Boy this really snowballed. Fun as hell to write, though. I couldn't bring myself to write the actual smut, but hopefully the buildup is worth a read. Title is from the Mika song of the same name, which [goes pretty well with the theme of the story.](http://lyricstranslate.com/en/boum-boum-boum-boom-boom-boom.html) Anyway, please enjoy, and thanks for reading!
> 
> Edit: god I REALLY need to double check that I've written a summary before posting, this is the third time I've done this sigh

Grantaire is _losing his mind._ He bites down on his hand to keep the mewls of pleasure from escaping his throat as Enjolras nips and licks at his collarbone, his throat, his jaw— Enjolras is everywhere all at once. His hand can't mask his heavy breathing, though, the pants loud and echoing in the quiet of this small side room. Teacher work room? Grantaire doesn't care. It's empty aside from them and that's all that matters to him.

Just a few hallways away the gallery opening continues. Grantaire’s got a few pieces in it, which is why he's here in the first place. That and the lure of free food and drink. As well as Courfeyrac practically dragging him out with the threat of a slow and painful death if he didn't attend; something about meeting other friends of his, since Courf had apparently told them all proudly about his friend’s achievement. 

Grantaire has to remember to thank him later. Profusely.

He doesn't remember entirely how they got to this point, his memory hazy and unreliable in the fog of lust. It started with an argument, he thinks; a stranger, now known to him as Enjolras, remarking on a neighboring painting. Something about its deeper meaning.

Grantaire happens to be acquainted with the artist, and he knows what she intended for it, but just to be a shit he says, “I dunno man, just looks like a bunch of toys that got thrown around by some little kid to me.”

Because that's the right way to flirt: insult the hot stranger until he finds you irresistibly attractive.

By some miracle the man doesn't straight up leave; no, he stays and makes sure to tell Grantaire _exactly_ why he's wrong, and Grantaire makes counter arguments, and the guy makes counter-counter arguments; suddenly it's been an hour and a half and they're stood by the food table arguing about the influence of popular culture on politics and vice versa. By then Grantaire has learned Enjolras's name and met a few of his friends. Turns out he's also one of Courf’s friends, from the Amis group or whatever that Courfeyrac is part of. Grantaire's been invited by Courf a few times and declined, but as soon as Enjolras promises to destroy his arguments further if he attends, Grantaire accepts immediately. He can't help it; he's drawn to Enjolras.

“I'm not ‘destroying’ your argument, just bringing up counterpoints,” Enjolras protests.

“Counterpoints designed perfectly to discount everything I've said so far,” Grantaire says. He's not upset though; on the contrary, this is the most fun he's had all night. “That's fine, I've got plenty more to bring up. All I'm saying is, you destroyed my other points faster than you could destroy me.”

Grantaire realizes what he's said less than a second after it slips out, and his eyes widen. Yeah, he is _definitely_ drinking too much tonight. Enjolras is clearly a little tipsy too, but not enough to prevent him from hearing the comment. His eyebrows raise, taken aback. Grantaire tries to smooth it over by moving on, returning to his argument and moving on to the next point. 

“You want to bet?”

Grantaire chokes on air. _“What?”_

Enjolras narrows his eyes at Grantaire, suddenly determined-looking. Grantaire realizes he's not kidding.

Maybe going off to get wrecked by a half-drunk stranger in the middle of a public party isn't the best idea Grantaire's had, but he's done much worse while drunk, and he's liking the idea more and more. So, he grasps Enjolras's hand and leads him down the corridor and away from the chatter to a more private place. And god is he reaping the benefits now.

Enjolras sucks especially hard on a sliver of skin just under Grantaire’s ear, and Grantaire can't stop himself from letting out a whine. He throws his head back against the wall and shudders as Enjolras hums against his neck. Grantaire’s other hand twists tighter into the back of Enjolras’s formerly pristine formal shirt.

“Enjolras,” hisses Grantaire, yanking the shirt backwards. He doesn't use much force, but it's enough to detach the blond from his jaw. Grantaire gets a lovely view of Enjolras, flushed from ears to neck, eyes dilated and hungry. He stares down Grantaire for a second, long enough for Grantaire to assume control and get what he _really_ wants. He grasps Enjolras’s face and pulls him close, shoving their mouths together. It's sloppy and wet and Grantaire doesn't give any fucks because _finally_ Enjolras isn't being a tease. 

Enjolras takes to the kiss like he did to Grantaire's neck: quickly and passionately. _So much for control,_ Grantaire thinks fleetingly when Enjolras bites down on his lip and forces Grantaire's mouth open. His tongue pries all sorts of obscene noises from Grantaire's throat, and Grantaire can feel him smile with each one, the bastard. 

There's two things he can do here: he can take back control and show Enjolras what _he_ can do with his tongue. Or, he can let Enjolras continue doing wonderful things to his mouth. For once, Grantaire chooses to surrender.

Enjolras threads his hands through Grantaire's dark curls and tugs lightly. A shock rockets through Grantaire's body and his back arches against his will as he moans into Enjolras's mouth. His hands fall to Enjolras's shoulders, and he grips the fabric there for dear life as Enjolras tugs and nips.

They still have to breathe, though, and eventually Grantaire pulls back gasping. He's ready to dive back in, but somehow Enjolras has gotten the first several buttons of his shirt undone without him noticing. Apparently deciding that he hasn't kissed enough of Grantaire's body already, he mouths at his exposed chest. Meanwhile, his hands move downwards to explore the new skin, brushing along Grantaire's collarbones and all the way down to his stomach.

Grantaire is learning many things about Enjolras as they go. Enjolras is much more calm about public sex (or at least its beginnings) than Grantaire would have expected; it only takes a curious friend or teacher to come wandering down the hallway searching for one or both of them before they get caught. Obviously, he's an aggressive kisser, at least while drunk, and Grantaire cannot wait to find out if it carries over to the bedroom as well. Not to mention, he's damn skilled with his mouth.

Another surprise comes a few seconds later. Enjolras is stronger than he looks, evidenced by him suddenly cupping Grantaire’s ass and _lifting him off the ground._ Grantaire flails for a second before wrapping his legs around Enjolras's waist. Luckily his back is still firmly against the wall, so he's able to rebalance himself easily enough.

Enjolras stops for a second to breathe, and looks at Grantaire directly. “Good?” He asks, voice breathy and light. 

Grantaire mashes their lips together again, this time taking the lead. “What do you think?”

Enjolras kneads his hands into Grantaire’s ass, and he moans again. Enjolras captures his lips at the same moment and absorbs the sound. He pulls back, smiling innocently as he says, “That's not an answer.”

Personally, Grantaire thinks his position on the matter is pretty clear to Enjolras, especially since his legs being wrapped around Enjolras means that his crotch is right up against the man’s stomach, and there's _no_ way Enjolras can't feel his erection. But Enjolras wants an answer, and Grantaire can't possibly deny him anything.

Grantaire leans his forehead against Enjolras's and whispers against his lips, breath hot and heavy. “I want you to fuck me so hard I'm _still_ seeing stars in two days.”

Enjolras's breath hitches momentarily before he attacks Grantaire's bruised lips yet again. Grantaire might not be fucked yet, but by _god_ his mouth sure has been. He struggles with the buttons to Enjolras's shirt, and after an agonizingly difficult time he gets them undone. Enjolras steps closer to the wall so that it takes more of Grantaire's weight, leaving him free to use his hands to fumble with Grantaire's belt.

God, the _one_ day Grantaire wears a belt, and it's the day where it becomes the biggest obstacle imaginable. Grantaire lives with it though, because the belt is dealt with soon enough, and now the real fun can begin—

_Ping! Ping! Ping!_

For _fuck’s_ sake.

Grantaire had neglected to put his phone on silent, and now his phone rings with each incoming text. Whoever it is doesn't know how to send multiple sentences in a single text, apparently.

“Goddammit,” Grantaire swears. He reaches for his phone in his back pocket, which miraculously hasn't fallen to the ground yet. He looks at the screen, and _of course._

_ Courf: r wtf where r u _

_ Courf: ???? _

_ Courf: dude it's been like half an hour??¿ party's over soon ur my ride _

Grantaire groans and types out a reply as fast as possible.

_ I'm trying to get laid and you're cockblocking reeeeeally hard rn _

A reply comes back almost immediately. That one is quickly followed by a second.

_ Courf: gdi fine ill go find ferre or enj then _

_ Courf: …….wheres Enjolras _

_ bye courf good luck getting home _

_ Courf: DAMMIT TAIRE YOU OWE ME ONE AND I HATE YOU AND TELL ENJ HE SUCKS TOO _

Grantaire finally locks the phone and puts it on silent, making to toss it to the floor. Enjolras stops him before he can, though.

“I don't know who that was, but it's pretty late, right? We should probably head out…”

“Nuh-uh, you haven't made good on your promise yet, no way in hell am I letting you walk away after all that…”

Enjolras smiles, and _damn_ he's pretty. “I’m just saying we should probably leave school before we get locked in or found out. My flat isn't too far away.”

Grantaire thinks. He really doesn't want to stop, like _really_ doesn't, but Enjolras is probably right. 

He sighs and lets Enjolras put him back on the ground. They redress (with more touching and “help” than strictly necessary) and, after checking the hallway, leave the room and make towards the nearest exit.

“That was Courf, in case you were wondering,” Grantaire says as they walk out the door. “He said to tell you that you suck.”

Enjolras is a little ahead of Grantaire, leading the way, but he looks over his shoulder at him with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Give us ten minutes to get to my place, and I'll show you _just_ how well I can suck.”

They make it there in six.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm totally up for making this a series if anyone's interested in more stuff inspired by Mika, btw.
> 
> (Still not porn tho cuz I'm a wuss lol)


End file.
